


The Turning of the Tide

by Kipsels



Series: At the Ocean's Edge [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Discussions of Immortality, Discussions of Infertility, Drama & Romance, F/M, Future Fic, Mystery, Semi-Public Sex, Sex In A Cave, Slice of Life, Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25503961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kipsels/pseuds/Kipsels
Summary: No matter how little, all memories should be treasured.Because when you got to be as old as she had, there wasn’t much left to hold on to.
Relationships: Flayn & Seteth (Fire Emblem), My Unit | Byleth & Sothis, My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Series: At the Ocean's Edge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847596
Comments: 45
Kudos: 115





	1. Summer

**Author's Note:**

> The sort of sequel to Where the River Meets the Sea.

**\- Summer -**

…

The ebony’s petals were soft to the touch, the white flesh bruising easily as she pulled at it with her fingers. As she twirled it between her fingers, the pretty, delicate flower brought back memories of the flowers that once grew in the monastery’s greenhouse, long ago.

How strange...

Byleth pulled back, surprised at where her own thoughts had wandered to. It had been decades, perhaps  _ centuries  _ since she had thought of her time at Garreg Mach. But even as Summer’s unrelenting heat stung at the back of her neck, she was reminded of the way the sun beat down on the glass panes of the roof and magnified the humidity in the greenhouse. She blinked against the mistiness in her eyes as she thought back to her students, diligently cultivating useful produce to help them in their campaigns. How after the war, Seteth had directed the caretakers to grow certain flowers simply because she thought they were pretty. 

But just as the sun would set in the evening, the warmth of the greenhouse with its pretty flowers had crumbled to time.

Her brow furrowed as she inspected the white orchid in her palm, trying to figure out what it was that had triggered such old, worn memories, but her scrutiny was quickly cut short when a hand plucked the flower out of her fingers and tucked it’s bruised petals behind her ear.

“I see the mountain ebonies are giving us one final bloom this season,” Seteth hummed as his fingers combed through her hair affectionately. 

The old ache dissipated as Byleth’s chest thrummed with warmth and she leaned into his palm, feeling not unlike a cat preening for attention. 

“Have you found everything you were looking for?” She asked as she peeked into the basket he was holding, filled to the brim with handfuls of pepper berries, rosemary and amaranth, stalks of aloe and sheaves of sweet-smelling tree bark. 

“I have,” Seteth shook the basket, making the contents inside rustle around, “It’s been a good year, plenty to harvest from the mountain.”

“Then we should head back, it’s getting hot out here,” Byleth said as she reached for his hand and pulled it to their sides. The sun seemed to prickle at her skin more than she remembered, making her wonder if this year’s summer would be hotter than usual. Sunburn had never really bothered her before, but it was almost like she could feel the heat jumping off her own skin.

The path they followed cut close to the rocky cliff edge, the trees leaving dappled patterns on the ground even as the cloudless sky stretched out around them on one side. Byleth breathed in the air, the salt of the sea breeze cleansing her lungs. Seteth chuckled to himself when she started to swing their arms between them as they walked. 

Some years ago they had decided to settle in the mountainous region that made up most of Duscur's coastline. From nothing they had built a home among the hills, setting the foundations for a quiet life away from the world, which treated Byleth just fine. They were self-sustaining here, the decades used to carve out weaving paths in the mountainside of the Molinaro peaks to grow crops in the Summer and preserve them during the Winters. 

It wasn’t completely remote - from the house, it was possible to see the ferry dock that took holidaymakers across the archipelago every morning. They could traverse into town where they sold the goods they had cultivated throughout the year and pick up what they couldn’t grow themselves, though the town was large enough for them to keep their relative anonymity. Sometimes, a wayward hiker would also find their home among the mountains and Seteth would invite them to stay for dinner, but more often than not they were left to their own devices.

It was the most peaceful Byleth had felt in a very long time. 

She still enjoyed travelling, seeing the way the world continued to change and flourish around her, but having a small little piece to call her own without any looming due date was a blessing she had never expected. 

It was only a short trek before the weather beaten cottage they called home appeared through the brush, the white paint peeling back from the wood panel walls. Wind chimes that Byleth had bought on a whim tinkled with the heated breeze, welcoming them as they walked up the porch steps and into the relative coolness inside. 

“Looks like we might need to redo the paint,” Seteth sighed as he headed for the kitchen and began organising his foraging for storage, “Our little abode is starting to look a bit too shabby for my tastes.”

“We’ll have to grab some the next time we head into town,” Byleth pointed out, and watched as Seteth picked up a pen and wrote it down on their list. She took the moment of quiet to walk off into their bedroom and open up the drawer to her bedside table. It was bare except for an old dagger and a diary. 

She had been shocked the day Seteth gave it to her. Byleth had thought it was lost forever once she left, leaving behind every little memory of her past, driven by her desire to escape her pain. So when she pulled back its weatherbeaten cover and read Jeralt’s handwriting on the pages she almost broke down in tears. She had been dumbfounded by the depths of Seteth's devotion, his hope that one day they would reunite, that he had kept it with him for so long.

The journal was so old now that the words on the pages were illegible, but Byleth still kept it because she now knew that memories should be treasured, even if they hurt. When you got to be as old as she had, there wasn’t much left to hold on to. She gingerly opened up the cover to the yellowed pages, and took the orchid from behind her ear and placed it on the page. Her fingers pressed each petal flat as they curled inwards, breathing in deep as she cemented the little memory in her mind before she closed the book once more. 

No matter how little, all memories should be treasured, she thought to herself as she tucked the book back into the drawer for safe keeping. 

“What would you like for dinner tonight?” Seteth called out through the open door, causing Byleth to sit up straight.

As if on command, Byleth’s tummy rumbled at the thought of food. When she poked her head through the door to see Seteth leaning up against the kitchen counter, she smiled sweetly at him.

“Do we still have some leftover game pie?”

… 

Though no longer a published author, Seteth still had ample opportunities to stretch his skills and write in his free time. It was a hobby that he never grew tired of, a passion project that Byleth had never quite found for herself. She tried once to illustrate a scene from one of his books, hoping to get more in touch with his world, not that she was artistically inclined. The endeavour only proved to her that some skills could not be taught, even with all the time in the world.

So while it confounded her that Seteth could still find joy in prose after centuries of tinkering away with his words, she found her's resting against his shoulder and feeling the vibrations of his voice calmly reading out a passage from his new story. She liked the way his hand, loosely draped over her hip, would squeeze her warmly when she told him she liked the new tale, and with her final tick of approval he agreed the fable was complete. 

And while he no longer published his books, that was not to say he didn’t have an audience for them. The children that passed through town were an avid audience for his crooning voice and stalwart story telling. 

“I’m going to go into town to read my newest story to the children in the square,” Seteth announced as he piled sheaves of paper together, “I think there’s a good moral lesson in this one, even if they never quite realise it.”

Byleth picked up his satchel and passed it to him, unable to keep the smile off her face. 

“They love your stories, that’s what’s important,” Byleth reasoned as she reached up to peck him on the cheek. 

His brow pinched in a frown, “I thought learning life lessons  _ was  _ important.”

“It is, but children learn best when they don’t know they’re learning at all,” Byleth smiled, “Have fun.”

She helped Seteth collect everything he needed for the journey, discreetly popping an apple into his bag, before he headed out in the early morning light to reach town before the sun hit its peak. 

She waved goodbye as Seteth disappeared around the bend, leaving her mind to drift off. 

Seteth loved children, even if he tried to hide it behind the stern persona of a teacher he liked to put on. She saw it in those rare moments he held a baby in his arms. When she went into town with him, she could see the minute ways he lit up as his captive audience giggled or gasped at his storytelling. He still sent stories out to the local libraries if the children had a particularly good reaction to it. Seteth said it was just a hobby, but Byleth knew there was something more to it than that.

She had thought about babies once. It had been a sore point for her for a very long time- she had experienced motherhood once, long ago, and though the wound from losing her son might have shrunk away it never truly healed. Seteth had never brought it up directly either, perhaps from his own intuition, though she wondered if the pain and memories of rearing Flayn by himself were enough for him as well. 

Still, while it was not something they ever verbally discussed, she had thought that nature would have taken its course. When Byleth had finally returned to him, the pent up emotions - frustration, desperation, love, did not make them careful when intimate, so children had seemed an inevitability.

But as the months, then years passed, it never happened. 

Byleth had eventually reasoned that she just wasn’t capable of bearing children. While her body had never physically aged, perhaps her biological clock had. She had never had a regular cycle like other women, so irregular that she often completely forgot it. Perhaps that was the price one paid for immortality.

It didn’t make her sad, it was just another hand that life had dealt her. 

Besides, Seteth would always be enough for her.

… 

When Summer hit its peak, Seteth insisted on cooking spicy food, convinced that the heat on the tongue would draw out the heat in the body. Byleth wasn't so sure. She had never been particularly picky about her food, but when her meals had sweat breaking out on her upper lip it was hard to enjoy the flavour hidden behind the burn. Still, Seteth seemed to find her reticence charming, or at least believed the benefits of his theory were worth the sour looks she gave him whenever the chili wafting in the air caused her to cough and splutter before dinner had even hit the plate. 

So it surprised her that when his bubbling fish curry was placed on the table, her mouth started to water with anticipation. Before Seteth had even sat down she had begun scooping ladles of it over the rice in her bowl, smothering it completely. 

She took a bite from a hearty piece of fish and savoured the sweet tang that mellowed the heat as it hit her tongue.

“Mmm, this is so good!” She exclaimed, sounding as surprised as Seteth looked. 

"You're not usually the biggest fan," He said in jest.

Byleth grabbed a pepper straight out of the pot and practically inhaled it, “Did you do something different this time?”

“No, the spices I used for the fish is the same as usual,” He paused, before shrugging it off, “Regardless, I’m happy to see you enjoy it so much.”

Byleth hummed happily and held back a full-body wiggle as she piled more onto her plate, and Seteth was beaming at her enthusiasm. 

There was nothing left over when she had finished, patting her tummy in accomplishment and satisfaction. Her lips were puckered and red from the chilli, but she hardly felt the full body sweltering she usually did after one of Seteth's Summer specialties.

“Maybe you’re finally becoming accustomed to it,” Seteth said as he picked at the dregs in his own bowl.

Byleth laughed, “Is that even possible? After this long?”

Seteth's smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle, “Anything’s possible, my love. You of all people should know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm back to torture you all with more Setleth romance and angst. But less angst and more romance than the first one. Buckle up for this slice of life four parter!


	2. Autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware, there be smut in this one.

\- Autumn -

... 

She was sweeping the first fallen leaves of Autumn from the porch when her mind drifted to thoughts of an Almyran boy with secrets in his eyes. 

Her breath caught in her chest. 

The gentle midday warmth surrounded her like his arm thrown across her shoulders, but it was the biting nip of cold at night that brought back memories of his cunning mind and the sharp edge of his tongue.

She crouched down and buried her hands into the leaves, hearing the crunch as she closed her fists down on them. Her mind raced through her old memories - so long in the past that it almost made her head hurt. A boy at school, the leader of another country intent to build a better world for everyone, an old sick man she never got to say goodbye to.

“Ugh,” She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Byleth?” Seteth called, his hand hot on her shoulder when he approached, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine… I think,” She winced as she staggered to stand up.

“Are you sure? We can head into town, see a physician. There’s no harm in checking if you’re feeling unwell,” He frowned, the concern written clear across his face. 

Byleth pushed the broom into his hands and retreated back inside, “No, it’s okay. I’m...fine.”

She wiped her palms off on her pants and grabbed a plump looking orange off the cupboard in exchange, before she plopped onto the couch and sunk down. She brought the fruit up to her nose, hoping the sharp citrus would burn away the nausea building up inside her. The couch shifted when Seteth sat down beside her. 

“Are you sure everything is okay?” He broached hesitantly, “You’ve been a little distant lately.”

It had been a long time since Byleth had been so contemplative of the past, and part of her wondered if she should tell him that. Sometimes it was so hard to grasp at her own thoughts, it made her worry that perhaps there was more to it than simple reminiscence. 

“I guess I have,” She picked at the pith of the orange with a small frown, “I’ve had memories creep up on me lately. More than usual.”

“Byleth...”

She shrugged, “It's not bad. I can’t explain it, but it’s been so long since I’ve even thought back to those years and it… it makes my heartache, just a little.”

He hummed in that noncommittal way of his, telling her that he was there for her whether she wanted to say more or nothing at all. She didn't know what else to tell him, when she couldn't yet make sense of it herself. 

“Perhaps we just need to get out more. It’s easy to forget the world up here,” Seteth suggested, “A couple day trips won’t hurt.”

She nodded her head slowly as she considered it, “I suppose you’re right.”

Her thumb pierced through the flesh of the orange she had been holding and she tore the fruit in two, passing half over to him. 

“That’s settled then, I’ll have a look and see if there are any rooms left in town for a short trip,” He smiled and gave her arm an affectionate pinch as he took the orange, “I wouldn’t want to carry you all the way back.”

“Might do you some good,” She huffed, “Get you back into shape, old man.”

“Ah, is that what you think of me now? An old man?”

“Absolutely ancient.”

“ _Ancient?”_

“Yes,” Byleth smirked as she leaned over and stroked the scruff on his chin, “But it just so happens that absolutely ancient is just my type.”

Byleth’s heart gave a single, sharp thud in her chest as he gazed directly into her eyes.

“Funny you should say that,” He purred as he turned into her palm, “Absolutely ancient is my type as well.”

...

Byleth had almost completely forgotten about the Fall Festival until Seteth had said he’d managed to snag a room at the busiest time of the year for Duscur. 

Travellers from all over the world came to see and experience the colourful festival dedicated to celebrating a bountiful harvest. The event was just another way that the world had changed culturally, no longer bound by an ancient religion but instead influenced by entirely new ones. 

The streets were bathed in a warm red glow from the paper lanterns strung along building to building, the stalls selling their wares to tourists decorated by rusted leaves, pinecones and gourds of every shape and size. Together they hustled through the crowds, blending in like any other couple, allowing Byleth to enjoy the experience simply for what it was. 

"Ah, one moment," Seteth announced, dropping her hand.

Seteth drifted off and purchased what looked like two tea cakes from a wizened old woman, ambling his way back to Byleth and handing one over.

“It’s a tradition to eat them for Mid-Autumn, remember?” He said as he watched her take her first bite. 

The lotus seed paste inside the pastry was tacky and sweet against her tongue, and she murmured her praise even as she licked at her lips for wayward crumbs. 

“I’d forgotten how good these were,” Byleth sighed as she took another bite and savoured it. 

They joined hands again as they meandered along, before they reached the town’s centre where a magnificent harvest display had been erected. Richly colourful, it was an ode to Autumn, and Byleth watched on as people took candles and offerings for lost loved ones, photos piled upon every free edge that could be found.

“Seteth,” Byleth pulled to a stop and pointed her chin towards it.

“Hmm?”

“I’d like to leave a blessing.”

Seteth blinked in surprise but quickly acquiesced, “Of course, we should give our thanks when we can.”

A young lad was selling candles and bags of what looked like potpourri at the corner, and Byleth took a few coins for trade. She passed one candle and a bag to Seteth, and they headed over to the monument together. 

The thick perfume of incense filled the air as Byleth lit the candle on another- the wax dripping on a spare bit of stone as she set it down. She lifted the fragrant pouch to her face, smelling rooibos and dried citrus, before wedging it in place. She had little faith left after so many years but the motions to clasp her hands in prayer were as familiar as they ever had been.

One prayer for her students, her soldiers, their stories lost to history.

One for her father, and one for her son, who lived on in her heart.

She prayed for each little memory that she held on to, and she prayed to only feel the warmth of remembrance, and not the pain.

She breathed in the cloying smoke that surrounded her and she opened her eyes, feeling a lighter than she had these last few weeks. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Seteth crouched low beside her, head bowed. He had also lit the candle she had passed him in remembrance. Perhaps for his wife, or his lost people.

Prayers were meant to be private.

When his eyes opened and he turned his body towards her, she reached out her hand to grasp his, lifting them up together. 

“Come on, let’s go. I want to see the gourd carving competition.”

...

On the second night of the festival, Byleth was keen to travel out to the beaches, where bonfires were lit and music was played as revellers danced in the sand.

“Come on,” She said, tugging at Seteth's hand, “I bet they have barbecues.”

“Food is never far from your mind, is it?” He chuckled even as he humoured her and let her drag him along.

“Only recently.”

Byleth's instincts were right. At the beach’s edge peddlers had set up wood fires with thick, juicy slices of meat piled generously onto plates for their hungry customers. She practically salivated over all the different options while Seteth scouted out any available seats circling the bonfire. 

Indecisive, she piled two plates with a bit of everything, before following after Seteth, already lost in a crowd of people. She found him standing tall and waving for her, and she smiled as she scuttled along.

“Here, I couldn’t decide,” She passed him a plate.

“It all looks delicious,” He said as they sat down and turned towards the fire.

Performers danced in elaborate costumes to the beat of the drums as Byleth chowed down. One dancer looked like a phoenix, his paper wings fluttering behind him as he spun, while a troupe stamped their feet and prowled along underneath the guise of a dragon. Seteth’s hand fell onto her thigh to grab her attention as he pointed out the inaccuracies in the design, making her smile and cringe at the same time. 

To try and apply the rules of mortal relationships to what she had with Seteth would have been futile. She had tried, for longer than she should have, to try and rationalise the ebbs and flows of their time together.

The luckiest of humans found their soulmates young, but even then the most dedicated of couples were lucky to pass 60 years together.

How could that compare to hundreds? Thousands even?

There were years where they barely touched, comforted by mere companionship. Sometimes she travelled - Seteth was more content to stay put, though occasionally he left to travel to what was once the Rhodos coast to pay his respects or to visit the remains of his slumbering brothers. Even when they were apart they always kept in contact, as was her promise to him, and her breath always hitched in her chest when she heard him say that he loved her.

But just as those years would drag on to the brink of her wondering if they would ever end, something would spark.

Like how the burnt orange of firelight glinted off his hair, making him look like a gilded god.

The food held little interest to her now as she watched the audience jump in with the performers, all dancing and singing around the fire. She was suddenly hyper aware of the way Seteth’s hand gripped her thigh. 

She reached for his hand and tugged at him, enamoured by the bemused little smile on his lips as he pulled himself out of his seat. She dragged him closer to the fire, feeling the heat sear at her skin even as the fall winds chilled it.

“Dance with me?” She asked, feeling breathless.

“You want to dance?” He frowned as she pulled him further into the throng of people.

She nodded her head in confirmation, and he sighed and shook his head even as she felt the heat of his hands against her hips. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and swayed to the heavy beat of the drums and the trill of the flutes. She let herself drift away from herself by the music, as she focused on the sweat dampening the nape of his neck and the intense look in his eyes as he pulled her closer. 

Age did not touch Seteth physically. He looked just as he had when they had first met. But she could count each year he had lived and learned from in his wise eyes, and wondered when her humanity had completely shed from her own.

Byleth didn’t notice the looks they drew as they circled and swayed, the dance they led ancient and forgotten in the modern world. When she was in Seteth’s arms, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

...

Sometimes, in the dead of night, Byleth’s own thoughts got the better of her. They would spin around inside her mind, rapidly switching directions and going in circles to the point that it left her feeling like her heart was in her throat. She was better at dealing with it now, could calm herself with deep breathing and distraction, but sometimes even the best attempts couldn’t clear her mind.

Tonight was just one of those nights. 

"Did you ever see her again?" Byleth asked aloud, her voice sounding loud against the inky blackness of the room.

She could feel his body stiffen behind her, and she almost regretted even asking. On nights like these Seteth had trouble settling as well, teetering on the edge of wakefulness where every sound or movement could jolt him.

Perhaps his own anxieties surfaced with her own, a deep seated fear that she could just up and leave again one day, never to return.

No, not again. 

His voice was soft, "Do you mean…?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause, and the bed creaked as he shifted his weight around. Byleth thought he might simply roll over and ignore the question. That was fine, she thought, it’s not like it really mattered. 

Instead, his hand came up to brush the skin of her bare arm.

"No, I haven't."

"I did. Just once," Byleth sighed, "She looked just the same as she had. Beautiful, proud...broken."

Seteth’s question rustled through her hair, "What happened?"

"I turned around and walked away. I was still so angry and hurt. I think I knew that if I confronted her I would have done something that I'd regret."

“It was the right choice, then,” He said, a whisper against the shell of her ear. 

Byleth reached her hand up from the sheets to cover his, “Do you think she’s still..?”

"Yes. Indech and Macuil might have faded to time, but Seiros… I can still sense her,” Seteth said, adding as an afterthought, “She’s too stubborn for that.”

“Hmm…”

“What made you think of her?”

“I don’t know,” Byleth snuggled deeper into her pillow and tried to focus on the warmth of his hand against her arm, his chest against her back, “What would you do if we saw her again?”

“I-...” Seteth stopped himself, petering off with an indiscernible murmur. 

“It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I would… I would thank her. Because while I will never agree with her choices, those same choices gave me you.”

...

“This is the best idea you’ve had in _years_ ,” Byleth moaned as she sunk deeper into steaming water. 

The islands in the archipelago all featured varying levels of geothermal activity - it was one of the features that brought tourists out to them in droves. These pools of volcanic mineralised water weren’t a new find for Byleth or Seteth, though they rarely made the trip. She supposed that complacency to the wonders at your own doorstep was just human nature.

During the summer months they were deserted, as people preferred the beaches to the bubbling mineral pools, and when Autumn crept in most travellers were still too distracted by the festivities to travel the islands. So, when Seteth had suggested they catch the ferry and take a day trip to one of the lesser known volcanic sites, Byleth had readily agreed. 

This pool was a particular favourite - hidden away from curious eyes, the lake was buried deep inside one of the volcanic fissures that scattered the islands. It was a trek to get there, but as Byleth floated nude across the surface of the steaming waters, she thought it was well worth the effort.

“There’s no need to flatter me, dear,” Seteth said as his arms skimmed wide circles over the water’s surface, “I thought it might be another good way for us to relax and rejuvenate.”

“Sometimes your thoughts get the better of you, and you don't even realise it," He reasoned.

Byleth thought back over the last couple months and reluctantly agreed, “You’re probably right. I’ve been finding it harder to focus lately.”

“I know,” He said, “But, sometimes, it is best to live only in the moment.”

She closed her eyes as she continued to drift, “Who taught you that one?”

“You did.”

Byleth turned her head, following the path of his voice. Seteth had reclined back against the bank of the lake, his hair slicked back against his scalp and the pointed tips of his ears peeking out through the tangles. The sun beamed light into the cave from cracks in the cavern’s roof, diffused by the steamy mist that settled low to the ground. She watched with sharp interest as a droplet travelled down the divot of his clavicle and drew a pattern down his chest. She thought back to the way she felt the night of the festival, how this man, even at her weakest points, would never take advantage of her.

She felt entranced as she glided her way over to him, her nerves tickling as pressed up against him.

“Seteth,” She curled her fingers around his ears and urged him closer, “Kiss me?”

“I’d deny you nothing.” He hushed as he leaned into her.

His lips pressed to hers on a moan, the most delicious sound she had ever heard in her many lives. 

His arms caged her in as he lifted her up, dipping further into the water surrounding them, and she wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively. 

“Byleth,” He hummed against her wet cheek, dipping his head down to pepper kisses along her neck, “My love.”

Byleth lost herself to the warmth of his tongue as it licked the salt water from the cleft of her breast, the air caught in her lungs - like she was nervous. She felt acutely aware of every part of her lover, the rough pads of his fingers, digging into her hips, the scratch of his beard against her nipples as he worshipped them. His length, hard and insistent against her belly. Byleth wasn't sure she had ever felt such an effusive heat in her life.

She pushed him back against the bank, and the lust cleared from his eyes, just for a moment.

“Here? Surely we sh-” He stuttered.

“Here,” She kissed him, stealing his breath, “It’s just us.”

Byleth climbed over his body, tracing her finger down his chest and abdomen, exploring cursed scars that had never healed. His breath shuddered from his chest and his fingers clenched into the meat of her thighs as she reached down to grasp his length in her hand, pumping at it luxuriantly before she slowly rocked down, joining them. 

She enjoyed the power she felt as she swayed, back and forth, the wet slide of their bodies magnifying each small spark of pleasure into a blazing inferno. She revelled in the noises Seteth made, the way the muscles of his neck pulled taut as he hung his head backwards.

Byleth's hand drew a languorous path down her own body, teasing her nipples to peaks before drawing light, feather touch circles at her core. When her fingers passed further down to where they were joined, Seteth groaned aloud and heaved himself forward, using the momentum to twist them around and over.

Pushed up against the bank of the lake, she barely noticed how the stone and grit dug into her flesh. Seteth's hands arched her hips off the ground, leaving her to the mercy of his thrusts.

"By-" He panted as she pecked at his gasping mouth, "Love."

He buried his face into her neck as he slowed their hurried pace into a heady grind, making her moan out in frustration. Seteth had always been a selfless lover. There wasn't another way for her to describe the way he worshipped her body, as if every memory might just be the last.

"Patience, love," He crooned into her ear.

Patience was not what she wanted, and unable to find the words to reply, she clenched her inner muscles, causing his leisurely pace to stutter.

"Please," Byleth pleaded as her fingers left red welts as she scoured them down his back.

He sped up, taking her to the peak she had been reaching for. When she came, arching her back from the ground, she distantly thought that Seteth's teeth felt sharper as they pressed into the flesh of her neck.

Her body ached with wrought pleasure as Seteth’s hips pressed her further into the bank, enjoying the sensation as he found his completion in her.

"I love you," She whispered as her fingers combed through the tangles in his hair.

Seteth's kisses were reverent against her breast, "I know."

...

The winds had picked up a chill in the air, signalling the end of fall as Winter's icy fingers took its hold. It wouldn't be long before the first flurries of snow would dance through the morning air.

Seteth was still blissfully asleep when Byleth left in the early morning for the orange orchard, with a note and a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye. Though he never admitted to it, she could see the concern barely concealed in his eyes whenever she wandered off without notice. Seteth was used to abandonment, and it seemed that even now some part of him accepted it as an inevitability. She didn’t know if the notes ever helped to assuage his fears, but she always wrote one, just in case.

The trees had already been pulled bare, though she picked off the last few remaining stragglers with thoughts of marmalade and honeyed tea. She felt particularly daring as she pulled herself up by the sturdy branches and scaled one of the trees, keen on plucking the last fruit sitting high above the ground.

She could almost hear Seteth’s voice, gently scalding her for her recklessness. The thought made her smile.

“Aha,” She hummed triumphantly and she gave the orange a twist and pulled it free, bringing it to her nose to smell it’s bitter sweet scent. 

She clung tight to the tree as she climbed the last few feet to the top. Up this high she had a magnificent view of the clear blue skies and the mountainous peaks to the south, already topped with snow. Byleth had half a mind to eat the orange right now and simply enjoy the view and the sweet sound of morning bird song.

That's when she heard it, like a whisper on the breeze.

“Hello?” Byleth called out, looking down to the ground for any passers by.

There was no answer other than the leaves dancing in the wind. She waited and listened for a reply or a shadow in the distance, but there was no one else there. Byleth relaxed once more, writing it off as a trick of the wind.

Again, louder this time. Words, but not any she could understand. Ancient, forgotten words. 

Byleth scrambled down the tree and paced, trying to find the direction the words were coming from. 

"Is anyone there?" She called out, gently as she turned left and right. The wind whipped at her hair, blinding her in the gale.

And then, just as quickly as it started, the wind settled, sweeping the voices away with it. Byleth stood there, looking around for any human, being or thing that might have held the answer. 

There was no one there. Just her, and the trees.

It had been a long time since she had heard anyone's voice inside her head, other than her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The festival is a mixture of the Chinese mid-autumn festival, Korean Chuseok and a bunch of other unrelated western traditions.   
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed another chapter!


	3. Winter

**\- Winter -**

...

Winters always reminded her of Dimitri.

It was never a surprise to her when her thoughts drifted to him as when Winter covered the Molinaro Mountains in flurries of snow. She would always associate the frigidness of Winter with trips to Fhirdiad, and of the boy who had almost lost his soul to the chill of the ghosts that haunted him.

Cuddled in furs by the fire, she was reminded of the warmth in his smiles. As the logs snapped in the heat she thought of his ungainly strength. Living so close to his legacy made it easy to reminisce.

Those thoughts had once only served to darken her stone heart, but now she reflected on them with a soft wistfulness. She could remember the happiness from those times and enjoy it for what it was, as she chose not dwell on what was lost.

Even so, this year she felt particularly distracted. Her thoughts kept going back to the day she’d wandered the orchard, trying to puzzle out what she had thought she had heard. But the more she tried to rewind the memories in her head, the foggier and more distorted they became, until she wasn’t sure it had even happened at all. 

While her mind was muddled by her own racing thoughts, it seemed her body was reacting in kind. Byleth had become acutely aware of the different sensations around her, like the searing heat of the fire, or how her skin itched when it brushed against the wool of her jumper. The smells of cinnamon and nutmeg and preserved fruits from Seteth’s seasonal baking tickled her nose, while the brandy they enjoyed during the nights burned down her throat. 

Even the sensation of Seteth’s featherlight touch across her bare thigh under the covers brought goosebumps to the surface like she couldn’t remember. 

It was like every nerve in her body firing all at once, pleasant but overstimulating at the same time. It felt as if her senses were trying to capture every little detail of the world around her, trying to find hidden pieces to a puzzle. 

She only wished she knew what the puzzle was.

She hadn’t mentioned any of it to Seteth. Though the events had confused her, Byleth didn’t feel the need to bring it up. She didn’t want to see his eyes cloud with worry like they often did, and as much as she knew he would never judge her, this was something she wanted to keep to herself. 

At least for now. 

...

Flayn came to stay with them during the Winter, whenever time permitted. Something of a consummate wanderer, she made the trek whenever she happened to be in the right hemisphere of the world. Seteth had tried to convince her to come at other times of the year, but she simply touted that Winter was time to celebrate family, or else one could easily get lost in their own seasonal depression.

“Honestly, I love you both dearly but I have  _ no  _ idea why you wanted to live so far up a cliff,” She huffed, her cheeks rosy and her breath turning opaque in the frosty air, “Duscur gets cold enough without living in the  _ alps. _ ”

“It’s hardly the alps, Flayn. You might not remember but Garreg Mach was much higher in altitude,” Seteth scoffed even as he pulled his daughter into his arms. 

She softened to his hug, "I missed you too, Father."

Flayn cut a different figure than she had during those years at the academy, though she was barely much taller. The chubbiness in her cheeks had been lost with maturity and her curly locks were cropped short, which still brought a smile to Byleth's face as she remembered Seteth's sour expression when Flayn had lopped all of her hair off and declared she would never go back.

The years had given Flayn a worldly air about her that she had lacked for so long, borne from her freedom and her own stories to tell. Byleth often wondered just how many tales she could spin now, as she never seemed to slow down for a moment. 

“Klaus isn’t with you this year?” Byleth asked curiously as Flayn bustled over to hug her in greeting as well.

She could practically feel Flayn rolling her eyes from over her shoulder, “No, he’s too busy being  _ in love. _ Poor boy.”

“Hmm?” Seteth’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “I thought he spent too much time with his nose in a book for that sort of thing.”

“Apparently not. He’s been mooning after this handsome lad for months now, too bad he’s just going to break his heart. Not that he cares what I have to say,” She sniffed. 

“Doesn’t that sound familiar,” Seteth muttered under his breath.

“Hey!”

Seteth looked back at her with a smug smile, and Byleth simply shrugged and reached over to take his hand. 

“The heart wants what the heart wants, even if the pain that follows is inevitable,” She said, feeling particularly wize. 

His fingers squeezed at hers.

“Come on, let’s head inside.” 

He ushered them back towards the cottage as Flayn muttered about her wet boots and frozen toes. Once by the fire, Flayn flopped unceremoniously onto the couch as Seteth went to prepare a pot of tea.

“It’s not even that,” Flayn sighed, “The man’s got Klaus and ten other’s strung along at the same time. I try not to speak ill of the dead but -” She paused and put her hands together in prayer, head turned to the ceiling, “Sylvain, if you’ve come back to haunt me this way I swear I will find you in the afterlife and cut off your balls myself.”

“Flayn!”

“What?” Flayn sat up straight, “We’ve been around a long time and I don’t think I’ve ever met another man quite like him.”

“He straightened out in the end,” Byleth reasoned, “Perhaps Klaus's crush will do the same."

Flayn propped her chin on her knuckles and frowned, “I suppose so, but if it takes a war to make a good man out of him then I’m sure Klaus’ bruised heart is worth the trade. Poor thing.”

Seteth set a tray down in front of them, a pot of spiced tea surrounded by cups and slices of fresh fruit cake. The conversation drifted away from fleeting crushes as Flayn eagerly recalled her recent travels to Brigid, and of the new exhibits Klaus had opened at Garreg Mach Museum. 

The little cottage in the cliffs was filled with laughter and the warmth that only a family could bring, keeping Winter’s chill at bay. 

...

There was something therapeutic in manual labor. The repetitive movements as she sloughed snow off the path distracted Byleth's mind, letting her focus on the stretch and pull of her muscles as she went through the motions. It reminded her of when she used to keep a sword at her hip, even though the space had been empty for many, many years. 

It made her feel useful as well. She wasn't much of a cook, couldn't build things from a picture in her mind - these things she left to Seteth and helped where she could, but she could clear the path down the mountain easy enough, and could catch a fish with her eyes closed. She smiled to herself, thinking it might be a nice surprise if she went down to the bay and brought back a feast of seafood for the three of them.

Her meandering thoughts were cut off as the wind picked up, barrelling through the cypress trees. Byleth braced herself as the gust of wind blew through the branches, sending the snow that had settled there plummeting down to the ground. 

It was unusual to get gales blowing through this time of year, but Byleth would have thought nothing more of it, only it was not just the snow that the wind was carrying with it.

There it was again. A voice. 

No, not just one voice. There were many.

It called out to her, like a thousand words being spoken at the same time. Just like the voices in the orchard, they were simultaneously there but also not. She tried to chase them, a cacophony of sounds calling out to her. 

“...leth”

The snow slowed her down as she ran through the cypress trees, the branches whipping at her face. 

“By..leth…”

“Hello!” She called out, her lungs tight. 

She was close, she knew it. Just a few more metres and surely…

“Byleth!”

Hands grasped at her shoulders from behind and pulled her to a stop, throwing off her balance and sending her tumbling back. She landed in a pile of limbs and elbows - not all of them her own.

“Oof!” 

Scrambling onto her hands and knees, Byleth twisted around to identify her assailant, her pulse racing through her veins. 

It was Flayn. 

“Jeez Byleth, you’re heavy,” The young woman groaned as she rubbed at her ribs, “And pointy.”

“Flayn?” Byleth asked, confused.

“Who did you think it was?” She sat up and dusted the snow flakes from her coat, “Didn’t you hear me calling? You just kept running.”

“I…” Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, words lost in her throat. 

She looked around, but the trees were still and the voices were gone. 

Hearing voices wasn't normal, even she knew that. But a part of her held back from saying anything - to Flayn, to Seteth. Byleth didn't want to needlessly worry them.

So she said nothing.

The two of them pulled themselves to their feet, and Byleth took stock of where they were. In her haste to chase after...whatever it was, she'd diverged completely from the usual path. She frowned as she turned back to where they had come, their footprints easily visible.

Flayn's eyes were shrewd and calculating when Byleth twisted back around to face her, and she felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment under her gaze.

“Has something changed, Byleth?” She asked, concerned.

The question pulled her up short.  _ Had _ something changed? Even with the strange things she had been hearing, imagining, whatever it was, everything else felt the same. Didn't it?

“No. I- I don’t think so?” Byleth answered, not entirely sure herself.

“It’s just that… something feels different about you.”

“Different?”

“Almost as if…” Flayn stopped, closed her eyes and shook her head as if to shake the very thought from her mind, “Nevermind, I’m sure I’m imagining things, is all.”

"No, what is it?" Byleth reached out to grab Flayn's wrist as she turned away, "Please tell me."

Flayn's eyes were a little sad as she smiled at her and shrugged, "It's nothing, I promise. Just a memory from a long, long time ago, that's all."

Flayn spun around and out of Byleth’s grip, her eyes looking up to the clear blue skies peeking through the dappled canopy, “The world has changed so much, hasn’t it? It feels like it’s barely been a blink of an eye and yet… we’ve been left behind.”

“Flayn…”

“It's true. The Church of Seiros fell out of favour almost a millenia ago, the War of Heroes now practically myth. Fhirdiad lost its monarchy and is now a bustling metropolis, and Almyra has conquered Morfis," She turned to look at Byleth from over her shoulder, her hand gesturing loosely upwards, "When was the last time you saw wyverns fly overhead?”

Byleth couldn't remember.

Flayn smiled, "We're the keepers of history. You, me, Father. Klaus too. We keep little pieces of it and carry it with us, always. I'll always be the girl who lost her mother in a war, but I'll always be your student too."

Her eyes roamed over Byleth's body, soft and unobtrusive, "I think the memories get mixed up sometimes, that's all."

Byleth couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. 

Flayn’s hand reached out to her, beckoning her to take it, “Come on. Let’s just forget this and get back. Father was telling me there’s a particularly good slope around here for tobogganing, and I thought you’d might like to join me.”

...

Byleth stared up at the wooden panels on the ceiling, frustration welling up inside her as her brain refused to settle. Her bouts of insomnia seemed to be getting worse. Even as she tried her best to relax, her mind kept returning to the whispered words she’d heard in the wind, or in her head. She wasn’t so sure, and after the incident with Flayn, it made her even less certain.

Part of her was scared, fearful that her human brain was starting to waste and hallucinate, unable to keep up with immortality. But it had been so long, it seemed so unlikely. There must have been something else, but what it was she couldn’t tell. 

She closed her eyes and sighed, willing the anxiety down inside her before she sat upright. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well be productive.

She could hear Seteth’s heavy, deep breathing as he slept beside her. Careful not to wake him, she pulled herself out of bed as nimbly as possible and padded across the room, the pattern of the creaky floorboards ingrained in her mind. She headed out into the kitchen, turning on the lamp above the stove as she set about cleaning up the leftover dishes from dinner.

The hot water in the basin seared her skin as she scrubbed at the plates, distracting her mind if only to make her aware of just how cold she was. Byleth lost herself to the motions of washing and drying the plates, her thoughts clearing for the first time in days. 

At least it was until a familiar presence brushed up against her, heat blooming in her centre at his very presence.

Seteth crowded her to the countertop, his nose buried into her hair. His warmth suffused through her even as she shivered in surprise. Seteth was generally affectionate, but Byleth had never considered him particularly forthright with his amorous intentions. Still, the newly lit fire in their romance was a welcome change, and she practically purred as his hand drifted slowly down the planes of her stomach, the firm pressure causing her to arch backwards.

"Seteth," She sighed.

"Byleth," He murmured against her ear, making her shiver.

"Seteth," Her breath hitched as his teeth tugged at her earlobe, "Your daughter is staying with us, in case you've forgotten."

"My daughter is peacefully sleeping," He said, his voice dripped like molasses down her spine, "And so should you."

Byleth bit down on her lip as she pressed her hips back against his hard length.

"I couldn't sleep again."

His hand stopped in it’s meandering path, so close to where she wanted it to be that she let out a little huff in frustration.

His voice was a little clearer when he asked, "Anything on your mind?"

"Nothing important," She denied.

"Then, perhaps I might relax you," He said, and she could hear the smile in his own voice

He turned her around in his arms, his smile warmed by the lamplight. She lifted her hands, sodden and wrinkled, and painted hot suds across his cheekbones. 

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” She grinned back.

Byleth couldn’t hold in the girlish squeal that left her mouth as he lifted her up into his arms, and she wrapped her legs tight around him to steady herself. She bit down on her own hand as he nibbled at her bared neck, amazed at his hidden strength as he carried her back to their bedroom.

When he kicked the door closed, Byleth prayed that Flayn was still a heavy sleeper. 

...

While it might only be one more cycle of the sun before she would return, the day that Flayn left always felt bittersweet. Byleth saw it in the way that Seteth clutched his daughter a little tighter in one last hug, or how Flayn’s eyelashes fluttered, misty-eyed. 

“You know you could always come and visit me, sometime,” She suggested as she pulled on her coat. The snow had already started to melt, leaving the ground covered in a wet slurry, but the mornings were still particularly chilly. 

“That would be lovely,” Seteth said as he packed her bag, “But that would entail you actually staying in one location long enough for us to find you.”

She laughed and looked a little abashed, “Well, how about we meet at the Museum one time? You could see the new exhibits and complain about the historical inaccuracies. We’ll have a great time. Then we could travel to the coast to visit Mother. We can make a holiday of it.”

“I’d love to,” Byleth readily agreed, her body itching with the need to explore after a long, cold winter. 

Seteth zipped Flayn’s bag after he’d stuffed it full of food for her travels, “Sounds like a plan then.”

Flayn pulled the rucksack onto her back and the three of them headed outside. The sun had only just risen above the horizon, but Flayn had a long journey ahead of her if she wanted to make good time. Once they came down the steps, Flayn turned and crushed them each in a hug, like she was imprinting the very feeling of them in her soul.

Flayn’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she shook it off quickly with a sniff. She smiled and asked, “When that boy breaks Klaus’ heart, he can come to hide away with you for a while, right?”

“Klaus is always welcome here, he knows that,” Seteth agreed, giving her shoulder one final squeeze.

"Good, good," Flayn adjusted the straps of her bag once again, "And you'll take care of each other, promise?"

"Is that even a question you have to ask?"

Flayn laughed as she shrugged and said, "The world's a funny place, it's better to be safe and than sorry."

They waved goodbye as she set off, and watched her back until it disappeared in the trees. Byleth leaned onto Seteth’s shoulder and peered up at him.

“How are you feeling?” She asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“It will never get easier, seeing her leave,” He answered as he pulled her closer, “But she always comes back, and that’s all I ask of her.”

They stood outside a little longer, watching the sun rise above the ocean. The light glittered off the melting icicles, making their little piece of the world look like a beautiful, sparkling wonderland. There were still many things Byleth wanted to solve, but for a moment, it was nice to breath in the frosted air and just be.

When it came down to it, that’s all she really needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three seasons down, just one left to go. Thanks for reading and I hope you're enjoying it so far!


	4. Spring

**\- Spring -**

…

As the last of Winter’s snow melted away, Spring’s awakening reminded her to live in the present and not to hold fast to history.

Seedlings began to sprout through the damp earth, restarting the cycle of life anew once more and bringing to fruit their labours from autumn. It was this time that she loved most, watching Seteth weave through the pastures, sprinkling fertilizer and humming softly to himself as if he had not a care in the world. 

The concept of calendar years had started to feel strange to her some time ago. She wasn't sure if Seteth felt the same or not- maybe he had never put much emphasis on humanity's desire to mark each day off like time was something physical and quantifiable. Even if he had, he had seen and lived centuries longer than she had.

Perhaps it was simply easier to mark the passing of the seasons with each Spring, as new life rose up from every corner of the earth - from the sprouting seedlings to the hungry baby birds squawking in their nests.

Everything had a cycle, it was just a little harder to see where hers and Seteth’s began and where it ended. 

…

Just as Byleth had started to reason that some questions would never have answers, everything came to a head one early morning.

Seteth had just put on the kettle and Byleth had been cracking eggs into a bowl, ready to scramble. He had been murmuring about a new foraging spot he had happened upon recently, when the ghostly voices curled through the air and gripped at Byleth’s ears. Not a gentle whisper like before, the voices rose up like a cacophony around her, causing goosebumps to breakout over her limbs. She barely noticed the egg that slipped from her lax fingers, dropping onto the floor with a crack. 

“Byleth, what-” Seteth called out, but she was already running out the front door before she could even gather her own thoughts. 

The voices kept calling her name, louder and louder with every step she took. 

Byleth.

_Byleth._

BYLETH!

She cut her bare feet on the gravel as she ran down the path, stopping as abruptly as she had started. Before her, blocking out the cheery sunlight was a towering stack of large crates that had appeared in front of their little cottage overnight, teetering precariously on the slope. The voices roared in her ears like a hive of bees,the individual words lost in the volume as she approached. 

When she laid her hand against the plywood, the beseeching voices simply stopped, as if they were never even there to begin with. Byleth’s eyelids fluttered as she stifled her surprise. 

"What on earth…" Seteth exclaimed from behind her. He approached just as cautiously, reaching over her shoulder to pull off a letter that had been tacked to the side of the crates. 

Byleth peaked over her shoulder as he folded the paper flat, seeing a familiar name on the mailing address.

"It's from Klaus."

Feeling more than a little miffed, Byleth clung to what was familiar to her and pushed her anxieties aside. Stepping away from the crates, she rounded Seteth to read the letter for herself. 

_Dear Grandfather and Byleth,_

_As you might be aware, the Museum of Garreg Mach removed the ancient heroes relics from its displays many years ago, in part due to their age and fragility. While it seemed pertinent to keep them in the event that they would once again be displayed, at this point in time I felt it was best to entrust them with you. They only serve to gather dust in the darkest corners of the museum's archives, and I'm quite certain no one else alive knows of their existence._

_History has passed, but some things provide more questions than they do answers now. The world is a different place now, with new lessons to learn._

_I think it's time we let our family lay to rest._

_Lots of love,_

_Klaus_

_Head Curator_

_Museum of Garreg Mach_

"The relics…" Byleth whispered, her blood roaring through her ears as she looked up at the sturdy wooden boxes. Klaus’ words registered slowly, her mind taking time to turn and inspect each sentence. When her thoughts finally caught up, her glanced up at Seteth in shock, "Seteth are you sure we should-"

"He's right," He said as he approached the crate, pressing his palm against its surface, just as she had done, "The relics are a part of our history, but not of today's people. Books reference them in myth now. There's not much left to learn from them."

His shoulders sagged as he sighed, his head dropping forward as if the words themselves were a great strain to carry. 

"It's time to finally let them sleep."

The barest whisper echoed through the wind, almost as if they agreed. 

...

Byleth had always struggled with communication. That was not something new to her or to Seteth, but it was something they continuously worked towards improving. Seteth was more patient than any man should ever have to be, but knowing that he would always wait for her to be ready rather than to push when she couldn’t find the words, made her love him all the more.

However, even after centuries of practice and improvement, it did not stop the anxiety from welling up inside of her and knotting up her tongue whenever she felt the need to share her innermost thoughts and secrets. It was a cruel counterpoint to the certainty in her heart that she would always be safe, regardless of what she said.

But it was that same duality twisting in her stomach that told her it was finally time to come clean. Seteth deserved to know about the voices she heard, that now chased her daily ever since the relics had arrived at their doorstep. He deserved to understand why his very touch made her flinch, why her every waking moment was filled with nervous energy. 

“Seteth?” She asked softly, once they had settled in each other’s arms after dinner.

“Hmm?” Seteth hummed, distracted by the book he had peeled open in one hand. His other hand gave an encouraging squeeze to her shoulder.

Byleth chewed on her lip as she continued, “What did you mean, back when... when you said that you could sense her?”

“Sense who?”

“Seiros.”

“Ah,” Seteth’s hand dropped in his lap, his book forgotten.

“It’s difficult to explain,” Seteth said, his brows pinching together as he worked through his thoughts, “As Nabateans, we are inherently connected to the earth. Once, I was able to sense each one and their connection to the land, where they had travelled. I couldn’t locate them directly, but I could feel the marks they left. Almost like a footprint, I suppose. Even now, I can sense Seiros, though she is very faint. She is...far away.”

“And Flayn and Klaus?” Byleth prompted.

“I can sense them too,” Seteth smiled, “It brings me great peace to know they are safe and sound, no matter how far away they are.”

Byleth hummed softly as she considered his answer, and how to best approach her next question. 

But Seteth spoke first, breaking through her contemplations, “I can sense you too, you know.”

Byleth sat up straight, twisting around to look at him directly. He smiled at her, his eyes full of warmth and affection, “But- I’m not...”

“No, you are not,” He agreed, before giving a small, dismissive shrug, “It wasn’t always this way. When we first parted I could not sense you at all, which caused me considerable stress. Though, I also did not think to try.”

“But since then, you could?”

Seteth shook his head, “No, not straight away. It is a much more recent development.”

“How recent?” She pushed, feeling tense.

“In the last year, I would say.”

“Oh.” Byleth settled back into the cradle of his arm, her brow furrowed. She thought back to the cryptic words Flayn had spoken to her in the forest, barely a month ago, “Do _you_ think something’s changed?”

“Perhaps,” Seteth leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, “Or perhaps these old bones have just gotten too attached.”

Such flowery words usually brought a smile to her lips, but as Byleth looked out the window into the darkness, she knew there was far more to it than either of them knew. She thought to the crates that sat outside their home, and how both Byleth and Seteth had barely spoken of them since they had been delivered.

Byleth’s eyes squeezed shut as she forced herself to speak her thoughts, “Can you sense them, too?”

“My love, who are you referring to?” Seteth’s voice dropped in concern. 

“The souls in the relics.”

Seteth was silent, his chest still at her back, “No. Not for a long time.”

Byleth breathed in, held the air in her lungs for a long moment. Now was the time to be brave. She knew she had to tell him. 

“I do. I mean, I think I do,” Byleth's voice trembled as she admitted it out loud for the very first time, anxious energy welling up inside of her, “I hear them whisper to me, their voices calling out to me.”

“Byleth…”

"It's only ever my name, but…"

Seteth’s arms were around her, crowding her inside his warmth and grounding her immediately. Byleth reached up to grip his forearm. 

"Is that why you ran out the morning they arrived?” He asked gently. 

"Yes. But… I've been hearing their voices for longer than that. I think they have been calling out to me for months," She whimpered, “I don’t know what they want from me.”

“Byleth, my love,” Seteth said, his voice firm as he spoke directly into her ear.

“They are just old souls, they want for nothing. Like muscle memory, they are simply calling out to something familiar, to your heart.”

“You have nothing to fear from them, I promise.”

Byleth shuddered at the thought, and Seteth held her a little tighter. Byleth didn’t fear them, she knew there was little those old ghosts could do to hurt her

But she did fear their voices calling out to her, their pleas going unanswered. 

…

It was late at night when Byleth snuck out of the house. 

The spirits inside the relics had been prickling at her senses constantly, though Seteth constantly tried to reaffirm that they were harmless. Since then she had not tried to approach the packages, the both of them at a loss of what to do with them. 

As much as she trusted Seteth, she needed to know.

The whispering voices rose in volume as she approached, their anxious energy echoed in her own heart. 

She swore the wood felt hot against her palms, like it was a living, breathing creature. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickled as she lifted the lid, revealing its contents under the moonlight. 

She was surprised to find the sword of the creator nestled carefully in a pile of sawdust and straw, perched perfectly at the surface. It called to her like it always had, beckoning her to hold it, to complete its form with the stone tied to her cold heart. The whispers in the wind had dropped away, less like pleas of her names and more like a burring hum of anticipation. Her hands trembled as she leaned forward to pick it up, waiting, wanting for that connection to burn bright once again.

But the sword of the creator was cold.

It did not wreath with life as she gently cradled it in her lap, did not hum with its old vibrant warmth. It was simply a sword, a shell of its former grotesque glory. 

The breath she had been holding in left her lips in a huff.

She had been so, _so_ sure. But there was no life left in these relics. They were withered and tired and wrought for eons that the souls lay dormant inside them. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes even as she swallowed her emotions down inside of her. 

Byleth looked up to the moon and tried, one last time. 

One final plea.

"Sothis?” She called, as if the words themselves could shatter glass, “...Are you there?"

Only the hooting of a lonely owl replied.

Byleth dropped her head with a sigh, looking down and watching as her thumb stroked along its surface. Seteth was right, whatever she had been hearing was only the echo, lost souls clinging to the familiar. There were no questions, no requests, just tired old ghosts with no bodies to return to. 

"Of course I'm here, silly. I always have been."

Byleth froze, a gasp caught at her lips and her eyes wide. Her hands gripped down on the sword as she twisted and turned, trying to find a glimpse of forest green hair and purple embroidery.

“Sothis?”

Nothing. 

Nothing, and then… a yawn?

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? I lose track,” Sothis’ lyrical voice drifted through the air. 

She… she _was_ right.

“Sothis..,” Byleths voice trembled as she squeezed her eyes shut, “More years than you could know.”

Sothis’ sounded sad when she replied, “You’re right, aren’t you? You've endured more pain than I ever imagined. When we merged, I had no idea to what extent it would be. Perhaps if I had known then… no, nothing would have changed. I'm sorry.”

“We all made sacrifices,” She whispered, "It took me a long time to accept this life. But I have accepted it. I... I have Seteth now."

"That you do," Sothis said softly, “It is these small blessings that I am grateful for.”

“Why were you calling to me, Sothis? It’s been centuries since we…”

"My bones are old, Byleth. It’s taken all the energy I have left, all the energy I have borrowed from my children, just to talk with you one final time, but I needed you to know," Sothis whispered, sounding more haggard with each word, “This is where our journey together ends.”

Their journey. For so many years, Byleth had endured the pain and loss of her past by herself. Had been consumed by it, had accepted it. Her journey had been her own, and yet she had been carrying the soul of another with her this whole time.

She had known this, and yet..

"A human body cannot support a Nabatean heart, even a perfect vessel such as yourself." Sothis broke through her thoughts, “Our life forces had been bound, which prevented you from perishing long ago. But I don’t have much left to give. I’m ready to sleep now.”

"Then, is this it?” Byleth looked up, the islands on the horizon dark shadows in the moonlight, “Is this where it all ends?”

"No, silly, _surely_ you know. Or do I have to spell it out for you?”

Byleth stared on, blank.

“Some things never change, do they? Haven’t you felt it Byleth? Like a butterfly escaping its chrysalis, you've shed your humanity and been reborn anew,” She laughed in bemusement, “I’ve been holding on as long as I could, but you don’t need me anymore.”

“Byleth, my child, you’re _free._ ”

Free.

Tears ran unbidden down her cheeks as she contemplated the word. Free from what? The pains of immortality were simply part and parcel of her life now, and nothing would change that. 

“What do you mean, Sothis?”

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” Sothis said cheekily, before sobering, “I think, this is where I have to leave you, I can feel my energy waning.”

“Sothis, wait-”

A yawn, long and drawn out.

“Thank you, Byleth. For being my vessel, though I know it only caused you pain. For putting Fodlan right again, so that the past could finally be laid to rest. I only... wish I could give you one final gift. Alas, there is little power left in me.”

“Sothis!”

“Goodnight Byleth... don’t do anything stupid,” Her voice petered off, swallowed by the rustling winds that picked up to carry it away. 

Byleth waited anxiously for Sothis to speak again, but the night stayed silent. Her hands fumbled with the sword of the creator, petting it awkwardly as she hoped to reawaken the old soul inside it. 

“Sothis, come back,” She muttered furiously, “I’m not done with you yet. You can’t just turn up after a thousand years and _leave me._ ”

She slapped her hands down on the sword, it’s blunt edges barely digging in, “Come back, we have unfinished business!”

It was like a part of her was missing, all over again.

“Just...please come back,” Byleth cried out, feeling hopeless. 

Byleth curled her knees into her chest and rocked, the sword cradled awkwardly to her chest. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, mourning the loss of her friend, her soulmate. 

When Seteth found her in the early morning he asked nothing, but her chilled skin was reawakened by the warmth of his arms around her. His presence, stable and firm, reminded her that every pain would pass.

All she needed was time.

… 

Byleth never told Seteth about her conversation with Sothis. It felt too complicated and personal to share with him, but it was enough for her to gently prompt him that they could not continue to delay the inevitable forever. 

It took a week for them to decide where to bury the relics. Seteth had originally wanted to return them to Zanado, but Byleth reminded him that the canyon had been occupied for years, making the plan unviable. Byleth had suggested that they could scatter them across old Adrestian territory, but Seteth disagreed - the logistics of travelling with so many weapons in this era made it impossible.

Eventually, they decided to bury them right where they were. 

They trekked to a mountain peak a few hours south-west, where the trees were sparse and there were unfettered views of the sea from one side, the vast Molinaro mountain range on the other. A place that they could sit undisturbed and return to the earth, just as they wished to be. 

The first trip they took to dig out a burial site, and with each successive trip, another of the relics was laid to rest. It was hard work and left them exhausted at the end of each day, but Byleth found it therapeutic for her broken heart at the same time. Seteth had never held her as close at night as he did during those weeks, clinging closer as they said their farewells to each relic, letting go of a little part of his history, his people. 

They left the sword of the creator to last. 

The weight of the sword felt heavy at her back as they made the journey through the mountains one final time. Byleth felt tense, waiting for Sothis to speak one last time, to put a stop to all this. Byleth wanted her to tell her that their journey together was not over. Not yet. 

But the sword stayed cold, and Sothis did not speak. 

When they climbed the final rise to the burial site, Byleth was squeezing at Seteth’s hand so hard that she thought she might break it. He said nothing as he squeezed back, only leading her to the last vacant plot, left in the centre of the other relics.

The air in Byleth’s lungs rattled as she crouched to the ground and slid the sword from her back. Her hands quaked as she held it in her palms.

“I don’t think I can do it,” She admitted as she looked up at Seteth, pleading.

He crouched down beside her, one arm wrapped around her shoulder, the other gripping the swords pommel, “Together then.”

They moved as one as they leaned forward, gently laying the sword into the dirt. A lone tear fell from the tip of her nose, landing on the relic. She thought she saw a spark of light where it landed.

“Together,” She whispered as they used their hands to fill the empty space with the first handfuls of dirt. 

It didn’t take long for the sword of the creator to be buried under the earth, but it felt like a century had come and passed with each clump of soil she moved in her curled fingers.They sat together, knees digging into the fresh earth when they finally flattened the land, the sword ready to return to the earth that Sothis herself had birthed. Emotions welled up inside her as she heard Seteth speak an ancient hymn under his breath, the ghost of his old robes draped over his shoulders.

“Goodbye, old friend.” She whispered as she patted down the soil. 

That’s when she felt it. The wind brushed picked up a lock of her hair, teasing her skin as it passed. Warmth rushed through her, concentrating into a ball of light in her chest, burning hotter and hotter. 

A thud. Then another. 

It was _so_ loud. 

Her hand pressed against her breast, feeling out the source of the noise that felt so foreign to her.

No. It couldn't be.

Could it?

"Byleth?"

Seteth’s hand was stretched out towards her, so she took it and let him help pull her up. His eyes looked tired, but not sad.

“Can you still hear them?” He asked softly, as though he was scared to break the peaceful silence.

Byleth looked down at the ground, imagined the dirt growing over with grass and dandelions, hiding away its secrets, “No. They’re quiet now.”

“How are you feeling?” She asked back, feeling as if she was in a daze as she stepped into his waiting arms. She pressed her ear against his chest, feeling the slow beat of his heart that had been such a comfort to her. 

Her own heartbeat echoed back to the rhythm of his. 

“I’m not sure. A little lost, but relieved,” He said, his voice caught on a breeze, “Even now, after so long… it’s been hard to say goodbye.”

Byleth silently agreed. 

…

Byleth sat on the porch steps, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to keep out the lingering nip in the air brought in by the ocean’s breeze. The steam rising from the mug cradled in her palms smelt more fragrant and spicy than she had ever remembered. 

The views of the pristine bay stretched out before her, the islands on the horizon standing out against the backdrop of blue waters and bronzing skies. There were few sights that Byleth thought were more beautiful than this, and even now it was hard to believe this little part of the world was theirs to enjoy. 

She smiled as she saw Seteth appear from behind a turn in the path.

"For you, my love," Seteth announced, holding out a delicate white orchid in his hand, "The first bloom of the season."

She felt her heart thud, heavy in her chest as he tucked the white orchid behind her ear.

“What’s on your mind?” Seteth asked as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. The heat of his breath fanned out across her skin, tickling her.

“I have a feeling things are about to change,” She said, and watched as his eyebrows raised with a curious look.

He turned his body and sat down beside her, and she passed him her tea.

“Really? How so?” He asked with his mouth pursed against the lip of the cup.

“I’m...not sure yet. But I think we’ll find out soon.”

“Well, whatever it is, we’ll face it together,” Seteth said. 

Her hand fell to her lap and she looked down with a secret little smile. Her heartbeat was not the only gift that Sothis had given her. Given them.

They had waited out centuries together.

What was one more day? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is where I leave you.
> 
> I struggled a little with the pacing in this chapter, I wanted to give a satisfying conclusion without rushing it, but I also didn't want to have the chapter blow out completely.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
